Posts Tagged ‘love’

High tide.

May 21, 2013

beach

Oh, we have the time to see what it feels like for our feet to get sucked into cool, wet mud. We won’t cringe or scream unless we want to, but we won’t….we’ll be too busy laughing and figuring out how to move again. We will be hunkering down to watch sand swirling in perfect circles. We will be standing halfway between dunes and the ocean, in the halfway sort of place that is half land, half water.

And if we wander down to the sea, if we walk that long distance, no one will say no. We can get messy, we can explore, we can try it out. When we fall into the warm, brown water, our clothes will stick to our bodies and show the outlines of all that we are and will become.

We have the chance to watch the tide race in, fifteen feet distant to ten to rising to cover our feet. We usher the water in, it follows us and we stop now and then and let it engulf our toes, calves, knees. The waves are small and unrelenting, they rush us closer to dry sand, to the sandcastles waiting to be built, the sunshine wanting to drench us.

Oh, that water is so warm, so unbelievably warm, and it’s water we’ve never seen so high, the tide usually pulling it so far from our eyes we can only imagine the water at the horizon. But we tried, and we walked far, and we laughed and struggled through the mud. The water rewarded us, following us home like a puppy, lapping at our heels. We watched waves roll in, one after the other, spitting perfect small seashells onto the sand. We marveled at the millions of years that caused the sand, the many, many moments that led us to this spot.

And it was beautiful.

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Snapshot of Snort.

April 2, 2013

The luxury of being you
Your head on your mother’s leg
The boat gently rocking
Spring sunshine streaming in the windows.

Your sleep is heavy and sweaty,
Cheeks red and sunglasses on,
Breathing deep and steady,
Perfect trust in the world around you.

Oh, the luxury of being your mother.

What I need to remember.

September 30, 2012

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No step of this IVF is easy.

September 27, 2012

TMD has a lining thickness of 8.8. The minimum lining they need is 8. It appears I’m not the only one cutting it a bit tight.

She asked them what the nurse meant by that, and they said it referred to the number of eggs. They also told her to tell me I need to eat lots of protein, and the hopes are that more follicles will grow.

Before hearing any of the above news, I was already in breakdown mode. These hormones are killer. I’m going to choose to not worry. Her lining is thinner than mine was when I got pregnant, but it is still enough to foster a good pregnancy. My eggs may be fewer in number than last time, but at least I have eggs….let’s hope we have enough and the cycle can continue to move forward.

So rather than obsess over things I have no control over at this point, I’m going to eat some protein rich three bean chilli and watch a movie. TMD’s mum has the kids as I called her this morning and started crying Iike a lunatic because I couldn’t decide what to do today. I have to say, these horrible borderline hiccups with IVF and the accompanying emotions are more like what I expected IVF to be like the first time around. It’s just coming as a sort of shock because it wasn’t like this the first time around.

I hope this is not bad foreboding shit.

But on the bright side, the cycle is like 1500 cheaper than I thought it was going to be. So if eggsharing goes ahead, we aren’t hemmoraging as much money as we were going to.

Baby three, I want you. Your big sister and brother want you so very, very much (no, we’ve not told them we are trying, and no one has asked questions despite Coconut seeing us shoot ourselves up with needles). Your mummy wants you. I don’t know if the cat wants you, but I do know she likes babies better than three year olds.

So if you are out there in the magical ether, hear me. We are ready for you. You will have lots of fun and cuddles with us.

See you soon, and I promise that your in utero nickname probably won’t be as heinous as Mano or Torre, though if your mum has a weird dream giving her a nickname there’s not much I can actually do about that. Love you.

How do I feel about children who are biologically related to me, yet not mine?

September 4, 2012

Awhile back, the lovely Lyssie asked about how I felt regarding eggsharing. You know, that little sidenote of IVF that led to an anonymous recipient having a baby last time around – and the same woman is getting my eggs this time as well. (Though they become her eggs, in my mind, the instant they leave my body.)

You know, before I thought about the mechanics of lesbians having children, I was pretty against sharing my DNA with a stranger. I had a selfish this-is-mine attitude that I think is totally normal and probably the more prevalent attitude in society. I also think there is more stigma, emotions, etc attached to donating eggs because it is about a million times more demanding than donating sperm. (Not that I don’t appreciate sperm donors. Holla!)

Years ago we went to a presentation by our clinic aimed at couples who were considering using reproductive technology to expand their families. And it was during this presentation that my eyes filled with tears and my heart with longing and I knew I would do whatever it took to have children. Anything and everything, and that was before I knew how incredible (and fucking exhausting) parenthood was.

Not to  mention the success rates. If we did IUI (intrauterine insemination, when washed sperm is placed directly into the uterus), the success rate at our prestigious and worldwide reputed clinic was 23 percent over THREE cycles (and that’s back when I was fucking young). The success rate quoted to me for IVF, at that time, was 55 percent.

WELL. I liked the maths, and the only way we could afford IVF was to eggshare. (A note on eggsharing – at age 16, the children in Country B who were conceived using donor eggs or sperm can get confirmation that someone they are dating is not related to them. At 18, their donor’s name and contact information is released to them, should they want it. I hope this other family does reach out to us one day, but that is perhaps the subject of another entry…if you remind me.)

When the head nurse called to say she had a match for me, and the match was super excited and grateful, something flared in my chest. Like a big firework of happiness and love for this random woman I’d never met.

You guys, women who need eggs have probably been trying to have a child for years. Trying conventional ways,  having testing, more invasive ways, multiple cycles of IVF, and then facing a two to three year wait for an egg donor – and this is at a private clinic, where things move more quickly. Can you fucking imagine that, all the agony and money and time and dashed hopes? I can’t.

I’m lucky because I can’t.

So we did it. And we got a card from her, and I plan to write HER a card this time – and I know that I feel better about this decision BECAUSE it is this same woman. I don’t know why, I know it’s illogical, but there it is. I didn’t think much about it during my pregnancy, but once my children were born I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. A lot.

I looked at the gorgeousness of Snort and Coconut and couldn’t help wondering about that third child. Did they have the same birthday? Were they smiling yet? Had I made an awful mistake?

But you know, the bottom line is that I can’t regret anything I did that led to the successful pregnancy and birth of my most beloved twins. Not one thing. And the joy they bring to me….knowing I helped another family have that makes me feel good. Just plain old ordinary good. Warm and steady and happy.

And of course, my children were created with the assistance of a generous anonymous man who gave us his sperm. It doesn’t make those kids any less ours, just as I hope the woman who birthed that other child loves him or her fiercely and amazingly. Like I know she must, because that baby was so wanted. And she felt that baby kick at her ribs, she birthed that baby, she bonded with her child. And I hope she gets to do it again, just as I hope to see my wife’s belly swell with our much wanted child, this third baby wonder my children will embrace, her breasts will feed, my body will comfort as she or he is wrapped close to my heart.

What a world where our children are so wanted and valued and we have to work so damn hard to get them. And it’s a community of people standing shoulder to shoulder with us. That man as he donates sperm, and a second man who gives us new sperm to create this new life. Me as I give eggs to that woman who longs for a baby, a sibling for her baby. We’re all connected together, and the bottom line is that this is a path of love and selflessness and hope. We may do what we do for different reasons, but our goal is the same:

to hear that new baby cry as they enter the world, to draw them close, to expand our families and hearts.

 

 

Tomorrow is their third birthday!! How did this happen?

August 10, 2012

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Hope.

April 29, 2012

My whole trip down memory lane had me clicking around my old blog, reading random entries. And I found one where my pal David asked me ten questions. One blew me away. Look:


6) If you had to choose between a life without legs and a life without children, which would it be?

I’m answering these out of order, and this one keeps catching my eye. It seems an impossible choice, and I can’t believe that I find myself leaning towards having legs.

In truth, I can’t imagine myself without legs OR without children. Except that I do know what it’s like to not have children, and I don’t know what it’s like to not have legs. I really believe disability isn’t a huge problem; this is primarily because of my first degree.

I’m not saying it isn’t limiting in some way, if you choose to see it as that, but in other ways it allows people to experience similar things in different ways.

I wonder what the limitations of this question are. For instance, can I foster children or teenagers? Or is that merely getting out on a technicality?

Essentially, I believe it’s possible to have a fulfilling life either way.

But…I guess I would choose having children over having legs. Except I WOULD totally get some bionic ones.

Children offer family, continuity, laughter, love. Legs offer a lot, but I would hope I would be adaptable and resilient enough to face life without them.

I hope, though, I will have both.

Shit. ‘Children offer family, continuity, laughter, love. Legs offer a lot, but I would hope I would be adaptable and resilient enough to face life without them.’ Have I? Have I exibited the grace and hope these words imply?

After all, while it sometimes feels I actually made the choice of having children over being able to walk normally, it wasn’t really a choice. I didn’t know it was a choice I was making before it happened. Who thinks they are going to end up with a permanent disability because they chose to get pregnant? It never entered my mind, which is why this past entry seems spooky and prophetic and….well, hopeful.

It reminds me that even if I HAD had the choice – mobility or my children – I’d choose my children. Every time.

Thank you for that, David from 2004. One again you have brightened my life. I love you.

Ironically, it’s the classiest tree we’ve ever had.

November 28, 2010

I feel pretty much as happy as a person can be. We went shopping this morning, and it was my first time seeing them both in one buggy!

They are growing so fast; while on holiday last week, Coco was learning 3-4 new words per day. Freaky. They are both walking out to the car and back into the house.

And now?

We’re getting ready to decorate for Christmas. The CD we’re listening to has a little ditty that goes ‘I’m the happiest Christmas tree, ho ho ho, hee hee hee.’ Coconut JAMS out to this song.

So: this is what my life is, what my Christmas is now.

A little girl dancing around to music, bouncing up and down, stomping her feet, clapping, beaming with joy. A little boy carefully examining the strand of lights sitting on the couch waiting for the tree to be erected. Grabbing the top third of the tree (oh yes, it’s artificial!) and dragging it over to us.

A quite tired little girl who likes the lights but may be afraid of the tree. A little boy in awe of the tree and entranced by the lights.

Two years ago I was undergoing IVF. Today I am happy. Plain and simple happy.

Being a parent is better than I ever thought it would be, and I have to say, I had pretty high expectations.

Sure, everything is different, adjusted. We are not getting out any of our normal tree decorations. We’re not, in fact, decorating anything but the tree – with the special shatterproof baubles we bought this weekend, and some garlands. We may make some homemade ornaments, we may save that for future years.

Everything is different. Everything is better.

We let Snort pick the decorations. We held up a tube of all purple, and a tube of red and gold. His face lit up and he reached for the all purple. Coconut was shown both tubes twice and shook her head no both times.

Snort is a Christmas geek, it appears. What do you think of his choice?

He’s even helping us hang the baubles, while Coconut is twirling them around in her hands.

I love, love, love my children, my wife, our family.

Happy early Christmas, from my happy heart and family to yours.

Conversations.

November 8, 2010

My fb status last night: Existere Awesome has cracked 11,000 words. She’s well into the second decade of her nano novel.

TMD’s comment: Yay!

My comment:
You are the best wife I ever had, TMD.

Fast forward to a couple of hours later. I’ve just come into the lounge for something.

Me: I left you a little message on my fb status!

TMD:
I know, I saw it. That’s why I came in to say hi to you earlier. That was really nice.

Me: I didn’t say it to be nice, I said it because it’s true.

….

Me: Though technically, I could hate you and it would still be true.

….

Me: I smell a blog post!!

For my love.

August 15, 2010

Ten years ago today
we talked in metaphor.
After weeks of dating without
saying we were dating,
we were together. For good.

We first exchanged
I Love Yous
on top of the Empire
State Building, facing
north.

We first kissed in a grungy
cabin in the woods.

We first lived in a studio
flat with an insanely yellow
bathroom,
a lobster toy
inexplicably hanging
from the cord.

We have explored
together – America, Scotland,
Italy, Canada, Holland, France,
England, Wales, Ireland –
and probably other places,
too.

We married ourselves with no
fanfare, or legality.
Four years ago today we made
it legal, but
to me
and to you
it is the ten years that count –
the law did not suddenly
make our marriage
more real.

We have lived in tents
for months at a time.
We have lived in that cabin
again and again. We have lived
in one of the world’s biggest
and most beautiful cities.
Now we live here,
surrounded by green.

We have been by bus,
train, plane, car, boat,
foot. Mile after mile in this
life
together,
me and you.

We have watched my belly
swell and ripen,
we have held two newborn
babies – a son
and a daughter –
and seen our family grow.

We’ve been wowed by our tiny
kitten, we have worked
for the same companies
three times,
we have laughed
and loved
a lot.

Thanks for this
ten years.

Thanks for the next sixty,
too.